


Struck

by SeverinadeStrango



Category: Sengoku Basara
Genre: Character Death, Gen, Grief, Heavy Angst, Mourning, Severina's May 2019 Requests
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-30
Updated: 2019-05-30
Packaged: 2020-03-29 18:31:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19025527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SeverinadeStrango/pseuds/SeverinadeStrango
Summary: Matsunaga hits where it is felt most severely.





	Struck

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sam](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sam/gifts).



> This was written for Sam, my sister, as a request for the month of May 2019.

It was over the moment that the hermit had appeared, that triumphant, infuriating smirk on his face, their worst fears had been confirmed and not a word had been needed. Sword drawn spear lifted numb all the while, they already knew, even as that last shred of hope burned within both of them, slowly dying. Flickering out like a lantern that had exhausted its supply of fuel.

Where are they where are they, the Right Eye of the Dragon, the servant of the Sanada both faithful to the end what did you DO with them where are they.

And he laughed and told them, in no great hurry, what he had done to them. Killed them both, struck them down like animals, like they were nothing more than tiresome beasts obstructing his path. Perhaps to Matsunaga Hisahide that was how he saw everyone. Yukimura had screamed and he was still screaming, even as Matsunaga had walked away, ever the victor, even after he’d collapsed to his knees on the ground and tore into his hair with his own fingers and nails. 

Sasuke. Sasuke _Sasuke_ how could you go, he slammed his fists against the ground and felt the impact jolt up through his forearms. They’d stood there helpless, him and Masamune both, as the man the _demon_ who had ripped away everything they had held dear for his own amusement strolled along, free of all consequences. It still seemed unreal and he wondered whether it would ever truly hit him at all – that this was irreversible, permanent and lasting in the worst of ways.

“You’ll have my back.” Yukimura turned – both out of worry and out of frustration, frustration at himself, at the tears that continued to form and refused to cease. Masamune was standing on the very edge of the rocky ledge that they had both been perched on, head bowed, fists clenched, and Yukimura knew that look all too well. The denial of grief, the stoutness of his dear rival’s posture, and he took a sickening sort of comfort in the fact that they were both in similar, if not identical situations.

“Lord Katakura,” Yukimura started, and was surprised to find that his words were almost impossible to get out, “was a loyal friend – “

“Shut _up!”_ Masamune whirled around and Yukimura ducked just in time, narrowly avoiding a swipe across the face with catlike precision. His words were furious, full of anger and rage and Yukimura backed away quickly, in case Masamune lashed at him again – but instead of continuing to attack him he merely hunched over, bracing his hands on his knees and breathing hard, heavily, laboriously. “Is.”

“What.”

“Is! Kojuro _is_ a loyal friend and will _always_ be so!” 

Yukimura’s heart plummeted as he realized that he himself could not quite start to think of Sasuke as someone that _had_ been rather than someone that was. Would this be him as well, blinded by grief? Sasuke surely was bound to come out from hiding at any moment now. From behind a pillar, a tree, out of thin air itself, _boss, you really thought I’d let him best me?_ How silly of him to doubt Sarutobi Sasuke so. A rough, painful sob caught itself in Yukimura’s throat. The air between him and Masamune had gone agonizingly silent.

“He really isn’t coming, is he?” 

Yukimura almost had the dignity to be embarrassed of how weak, how desperate his voice sounded. Almost.

Masamune shook his head and at last turned his face – streaked with tears and contorted with the strain of holding back what must have been a monsoon of emotions – upwards. No. No he’s not no they’re not they’re never coming back should we look for the bodies? Should we recover our dear and closest friends but he’s left nothing of them, they’d known it without saying a word. Oh, how terrible it was, that sick, cold spool of dread in their guts.

There was a clatter as Masamune trudged to the side, his foot slipping over one of his precious six swords – he’d let them fall to the ground long ago, numb to all else. And then with a terrible noise of agony, he sank to his knees, hugging his arms around himself. 

“Kojuro,” he whispered, and Yukimura dispensed of all propriety and bent down, clasping both of Masamune’s hands in his own as the tears came, as they fell, and he pulled Masamune to him, he let him stifle his cry of agony in his shoulder he felt himself shake he felt Masamune’s arms around his waist, trembling just like the rest of him, the rest of _them._ They clung to each other like they would to rocks in a storm, Matsunaga Hisahide long forgotten. Their two loyal friends lost to the brutalities of war, they now only had one another.


End file.
